


trouble haunts my mind

by fallingyoonjin



Series: sunric hunger games au [1]
Category: The Boyz (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Quarter Quell (Hunger Games), eric and sunwoo are best friends, sunwoo wants to protect eric, they both get reaped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:14:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26255488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallingyoonjin/pseuds/fallingyoonjin
Summary: his eyes had followed a pale eric, who had unsteadily walked through the parted crowd, eyes shining with terrified tears. sunwoo had felt like throwing up. it was one thing to die in the games, but to have to fight against your best friend was just cruel.
Relationships: Kim Sunwoo/Son Youngjae | Eric
Series: sunric hunger games au [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1907446
Comments: 4
Kudos: 62





	trouble haunts my mind

**Author's Note:**

> i have so many ideas for sunric hunger games au fics, so im thinking of making this a series lol. anyway, cw for violence, blood, death etc. duh, its the hunger games. its not any worse than in the books, so if youre fine with that this is nothing :dd

clear water sloshes around sunwoo’s ankles as he follows the stream down a hill. he keeps his ears and eyes alert, flinching everytime a bush rustles or a bird calls out from the forest. his hand is gripped tight around the handle of a machete, knuckles turning white. he feels exposed walking in clear sight, his skin prickling with paranoia. he’d thought that the longer you spend in the arena, the more used to it you get, but they’re nine days in and he’s just as terrified as he was the first day. it’s not just himself he’s worried for, but for the boy waiting in the cave, ill and unable to defend himself. eric.

sunwoo feels his chest clench painfully, desperation clawing at his throat as the reality of their situation hits him again, like it has every day now. it’s the worst kind of destiny, for them both to get reaped for the same games. the reaping is like a parasite embedded into his brain, replaying behind his eyelids every time he closes his eyes.

he remembers huddling in the large crowd of teenagers, holding the hand of a trembling eric as they watched district 8’s escort walk onto the stage, cheerful and peppy as if they weren’t about to watch two kids walk to their deaths. both eric and sunwoo were 18, and while it meant it was their last reaping, it also meant more names in the glass ball. more chances to get reaped. he remembers watching nervously as instead of krystal stepping up to the microphone to deliver the same speech sunwoo had heard since he was nine and his mom had finally let him attend the reapings, the big screen on the wall of their justice building lit up and president kim’s surgically enhanced face stared back at them. eric had squeezed his hand so hard it hurt, and sunwoo had squeezed back.

the crowd had shifted uneasily as president kim had given a clinical and concise speech about the rebellion and its consequences. it was the 50th anniversary of the games, which meant it was time for a quarter quell. sunwoo hadn’t been around for the 25th games, but he had heard about them. about how in order to punish the districts for rebelling against the capitol, districts were ordered to vote for the tributes they wanted to send in. and now it was time to do it again. everyone had prepared themselves for the trial, already made their decisions beforehand, when president kim had dropped the bomb. this quarter quell would be different. in order to remind everyone that for every capitol citizen, two rebels had died, every district would send four tributes instead of just two.

the square had been quiet after the projection of president kim had gone dark, the implications floating heavy in the air. twice the amount of children would die. there was a bigger chance to get reaped, a smaller chance to win.

and then sunwoo’s name had been called, eric’s desperate cries reaching him late, as if he was in a dream. he had walked up to the stage where a beaming krystal had shaked his numb hand. he thought he could hear eric’s crying in the otherwise dead silent crowd. maybe even his mother’s or his younger brother’s somewhere farther away. sunwoo felt like he was floating somewhere far away, detached yet oddly aware. at least it was him and not eric, was his last thought before krystal had fished out another piece of paper, announcing the one name that should have never been uttered by any capitol citizen ever.

it was like cold water had been splashed on his face, his blood turning into ice while everything came into focus. his eyes followed a pale eric, who had unsteadily walked through the parted crowd, eyes shining with terrified tears. sunwoo had felt like throwing up. it was one thing to die in the games, but to have to fight against your best friend was just cruel. eric had stood next to sunwoo, both of them desperately wanting to hold onto each other but also aware of the cameras filming their every move.

they’d been separated until the train, where eric had barged in sunwoo’s room the moment krystal had left them alone to “get familiar with their facilities”. they’d stared at each other for a moment before eric had crossed the room with three long strides and just crumbled against sunwoo’s chest. they had spent the entire night there on the same bed, wrapped around each other, long after the tears had dried. someone had knocked on the door, presumably krystal wanting to check on them, but after no response, left without a word.

sunwoo remembers the anger he felt towards the capitol in that moment, for forcing parents to lose their children and children to choose between losing their humanities or their lives. for forcing sunwoo to choose between himself and eric. he still feels that anger, buried underneath the fear and desperation but this time there’s also determination in his eyes. he’s made his choice.

sunwoo switches the machete to his left hand, flexing the stiff joints of his fingers. immediately, he feels something close to apprehension travel down his spine. he tenses and stops in his tracks. it’s silent, but sunwoo has long since learned to not ignore his gut in the arena. his eyes scan the area, the dread growing stronger when they catch bloody footprints on the gravel close to the stream. leading to the cave eric’s sleeping in.

panic swoops in his stomach and leaves him breathless as he drops the bag of berries he has just spent the last 20 minutes picking. they don’t matter now. sunwoo’s mind is conjuring up horrible images of eric splayed out on the cave floor, bloody and lifeless. he pushes them out as he runs and runs, following the blood until he sees the cave looming in the distance. there’s no sound of confrontation, but considering eric has spent the better part of the last three days unconscious it doesn’t bring much relief.

sunwoo bats the heavy branches away and stops in his tracks the moment the opening to the cave is revealed. there’s a boy standing there, peering into the cavern. sunwoo can’t make out eric from the darkness inside, but it seems like the boy can. sunwoo doesn’t think, just reacts. the boy’s reaching for the knife strapped to his hip, foot already stepping forward when sunwoo lunges for him.

the boy (from district 10, sunwoo suddenly recalls, they’re the same age) flinches and whirls around, narrowly dodging the machete swung at him. he lets out a startled shout and raises his own weapon. metal clashes against metal loudly, and sunwoo meets district 10’s eyes. they’re wide and scared, reflecting sunwoo’s own, but his grip on the hunting knife doesn’t slacken. sunwoo grits his teeth and pushes forward. the boy stumbles backwards, balance failing for just a second, but it’s enough. his ankle hooks on a root in the ground and brings them both down.

10’s knee knocks into sunwoo’s lower stomach painfully and he has to gasp for air. the other takes advantage of his distraction and rolls on top of him. sunwoo has just enough time to grasp his wrist before the knife would have sliced through his throat. his own machete is laying somewhere he can’t reach, so he focuses on squeezing 10’s wrist. sweat pools on his temples as he strains against the other boy. he’s shorter than sunwoo but more built, years of working in the field showing on his form.

sunwoo brings his knee up and tries to kick the boy, wincing when he hears a sharp crack. the boy doesn’t even make a sound, but his face screws up in pain and he drops the knife instinctively. when the knife’s no longer at his throat, sunwoo slams his forehead against the boy’s nose. this time the other recoils violently and lets out a hoarse shout of pain. warm blood sprays from his broken nose onto sunwoo’s face, dripping onto his eyes. he squints as the world goes blurry and lunges to tackle 10 onto his back. he doesn’t give him time to defend himself, instead grabbing a fistful of dirty, matted hair and slamming his head down hard. it doesn’t do much but make the boy cry out, but sunwoo doesn’t dare to reach for the weapons scattered a few feet from them.

he keeps slamming the boy’s head on the ground, trying to gather as much force as he can. he’s running on pure adrenaline, his heart racing and chest heaving. his actions get more and more frantic as desperation threatens to choke him. the boy is weakly trying to trash in his hold, but he’s losing conciousness the more hits he takes. tears spring to sunwoo’s eyes when he finally hears a crack and the boy’s eyes roll to the back of his head. blood is staining the ground under his head when sunwoo lifts it again. he swallows and stares at the boy’s face, searching for any movement. when nothing happens, he lets go like burned and rolls off the boy. he gasps for breath, lifting trembling hands to wipe the blood off his face.

nausea swirls in his stomach and he can’t stop staring at the bloody tribute lying next to him. he wants to cry, wants to vomit out the little he has in his stomach, but he has to make sure the other’s completely dead. he slowly crawls towards the knife, suddenly feeling exhausted. all the adrenaline is slowly trickling out of him, leaving behind aching muscles and an empty hole inside him. he grasps the knife in tired hands and returns to the boy’s side. his chest is still moving, a movement so small it could have gone unnoticed if you weren’t specifically looking for it.

sunwoo rests the edge of the knife on the tanned neck, so similar to his own it makes him feel sick. he takes in a rattling breath to calm down, and closes his eyes. he doesn’t want to witness this. it’s not the first life he’s taken in the arena, but it doesn’t get easier. how could it ever, knowing he’s murdering innocent children who are just like him and eric? everytime a cannon goes off because of him it’s like a piece of his humanity shatters.

the knife slides in easily, blood welling up from the cut. sunwoo lets out a wavering breath as he wipes the knife on his thigh. he keeps his eyes on the ground, refusing to let the tears stinging his eyes fall. he knows there are cameras on him, audience greedily drinking in every bit of action available. there hasn’t been a death in almost two days and the capitol was probably getting impatient. it’s just bad luck sunwoo has to be the one to provide the entertainment. he grits his teeth as a loud boom echoes through the otherwise still air. at least eric is safe.

he flinches and looks up with wide eyes. shit. eric. he scrambles to his feet, pausing to pick up both the knife and his machete. his heartrate picks up as he hurries into the cave. just because district 10’s tribute didn’t get close to eric doesn’t mean someone else hadn’t. he doesn’t wait for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, just drops onto his knees next to the dark lump he knows is eric.

“eric?” he whispers, laying his palm on what he thinks is eric’s back. the lump shifts. sunwoo can’t help the relieved sigh escaping his lips. he slumps forward, letting his weight rest on eric. “sunwoo?” comes a soft mumble, hoarse from the lack of use, but oh so alive.

“yeah. it’s me”, he breathes out. as his eyes get more accustomed to the dark, he can make out eric’s face peeking out from the sleeping bag he’s bundled up in. his pale skin has an unhealthy bluish tint to it, almost glowing in the dark, dark hair dirty with dried mud, hanging limply against his forehead. his eyes are slowly blinking, trying to fight against the confusion and decoherence. sunwoo had tried to wipe as much blood off his hands as possible, but it still leaves a faint mark on eric’s cheek (deathly cold even when the sun is rising outside) when sunwoo cradles it gently. he tries to say something, but the memory of bashing another person’s skull against the ground, feeling the muscles underneath him flex and trash, the blood in his eyes and on his hands that keeps repeating mercilessly behind his eyelids every time he blinks makes his throat clog up and the tears finally slide down his cheeks. he feels like he can’t fucking breathe.

“-nwoo? ‘re you okay?” eric is calling to him, and he’s so sick, so fucking out of it and sunwoo is supposed to be holding it together, to be the stronger one and he feels so, so pathetic.

he grips eric’s face a bit tighter, just to remind himself he’s still there, and lowers his forehead to rest against eric’s. they have to move out, find another place to camp out in, because if the shouting and the blood haven’t tipped their location to everyone, the hovercraft retrieving district 10’s body surely will. hopelessness swirls inky black in his mind, the thought of having to find another safe place while eric is sick and every tribute in the arena is probably prowling somewhere close seeming insurmountable.

sunwoo opens his eyes to find eric’s half-lidded ones staring back. their faces are close enough that their breaths are mingling together. sunwoo lets out a shuddering breath and presses their lips together. eric’s lips are chapped and cracking, bitten bloody, but he’s weakly trying to respond, letting out an almost inaudible sigh against sunwoo’s mouth and he’s perfect in sunwoo’s eyes. he doesn’t know if the cameras can reach this far into the cave, almost wishes they could, just to be able to show capitol what they’re trying to break apart, what they’re trying to ruin.

sunwoo breaks the kiss and rubs his thumb gently along eric’s purply undereye. the younger’s eyes are already fluttering close, lips still parted. “’m tired, sunny”, he slurs, pressing his cheek against sunwoo’s palm. the elder lets out a slightly hysterical chuckle and nods. eric’s the one that’s supposed to get out of here, he’s what sunwoo has been trying to keep alive at the expense of his own life, and fucking hell if he won’t keep trying. but there’s not much even sunwoo can do about an illness without any medication. few more tears slip down his dirtied cheek.

“i know, i know you are. just go to sleep, yeah? sunny’s here, and i’m not going anywhere.”


End file.
